A Week of Showdowns (2)
"Out!"
A groan rolled through the Marines fans who had packed Jamsil's away section even on a weekday.
That was the beauty of baseball.
Our starter today wasn't even one of the regulars — it was the veteran Park Yongsik. The Marines had sent out Park Siwan, their number-two starter and one of the finest homegrown arms in the country. He was a lock to start for the national team at the Asian Games once the season wrapped, but we had gotten to him today. Meanwhile the Marines, owners of the most feared lineup in the league, had gone four innings against Park Yongsik without putting a single run on the board.
Bottom of the fourth. The score was 0–5.
If we could close this one out, Albert and Josh — our one-two punch — would take the ball for the rest of the series. A winning series against the Marines, or better yet a sweep, and the early-season momentum would swing entirely our way.
The weekend set was against the Seoul Unicorns, who had been buried in last place since opening day. Lee Janghoon and Yu Yeongjun — widely regarded as the best hitter and the best pitcher in the country — had left last year for the San Francisco Giants and the Tokyo Giants respectively, and the Unicorns had essentially gone into a full rebuild. Beat the Marines, sweep the Unicorns. This was a genuinely important week.
"Lee Junseong, get loose in the bullpen."
"…Understood."
It wasn't exactly a shock. Park Yongsik wasn't overpowering anyone so much as catching hitters out in front, and the balls they did square up kept finding leather. Five innings would be the ceiling, and even that would end the moment a runner reached base.
Still, I headed for the bullpen hoping he'd hang in there as long as he could.
"We've got a lead. Forget the runners and just throw."
"Got it."
Park Ujin gave me the word and headed back toward home plate.
Park Yongsik had somehow survived the fifth — better than anyone had a right to expect — but when he came back out for the sixth he walked a man, gave up a double, and left with nobody out and runners on second and third. In my opinion they should have pulled him the moment he issued the walk, but the manager had trusted his pitcher more than usual.
Park Siwan had taken some damage, but he was still holding us without any further scoring.
The inherited runners wouldn't go on my ERA, but if I let both of them come in, this game was anybody's until the final out. Even granting that the Marines' bottom of the order was no picnic, putting the leadoff man Oh Juchan in the box with nobody out and runners on second and third was not a situation you wanted.
But my job was to appear when it mattered most. All I could do was lock in on the hitter in front of me.
Thwack!
"Strike!"
I hadn't even recorded the punch-out yet and the home crowd was already louder than usual. I glanced at the scoreboard. Ninety-five miles an hour. Objectively fast, sure — but I had no intention of being satisfied with that. The fans at Jamsil still had plenty left to be surprised by.
Thwack!
"Strike!"
Two straight fastballs, both painted on the inner half. Oh Juchan still hadn't offered. Even if he had, it wouldn't have been easy.
Thwack!
"Strike three!"
He swung through a high fastball on the hands and came up empty.
A mis-hit ball can always find grass, so I had been hunting strikeouts first and, failing that, infield contact or a shallow fly. It had worked exactly as planned.
"Nice pitching!"
"Nobody does laundry on a starter's ERA quite like Junseong."
Kim Junsu said it with a grin. The rest of the clubhouse could feel how much those scoreless innings had meant.
"Alright. Time we tacked on a few more."
Gang Daeho settled the group down as he said it. He was a good player and a good senior, but things had a way of not going the way he said they would, so whenever he opened his mouth with that captain's gravitas I couldn't help feeling uneasy.
"Junseong."
The manager had something to say.
"I need you for another inning."
"Yes, sir."
A five-run lead and he wants another inning out of me… So even the skipper is taking the Marines seriously. Fine by me.
Sure enough, Gang Daeho's words did not come to pass. Park Siwan set us down in order in the sixth, the five-run lead held, and the top of the seventh began.
Four, five, and six for the Marines. Na Taeho in the four-hole and Jeon Jaehwan behind him were legitimate middle-of-the-order threats — and both of them hit from the right side. Jeon Jaehwan had been one of the best right-handed bats in the league for years, a Marine through and through. Na Taeho had been the national team's immovable cleanup hitter as recently as five years ago, and he still went toe-to-toe with Kang Hyeok of the Dolphins for the home run title every season.
The Marines fans in the away section were already roaring before Na Taeho even stepped in. Down five and they still hadn't run out of voice.
Park Ujin put down a sign. I got set.
Thwack!
"Ball!"
I'd tried to climb the ladder with a high fastball and he hadn't bitten. The ones you try to steal cheap never seem to work when you need them.
Thwack!
"Strike!"
A fastball painted on the outer edge. I trusted my command. I'd seen a clip somewhere claiming I threw too many fastballs. I just threw the pitch I believed in. No matter what else I added to the repertoire, I had no intention of changing a game plan built on a heavy fastball diet.
Thwack!
"Strike!"
Same spot, same pitch, and Na Taeho flinched. He hadn't expected me to go back there — and to hit it that perfectly — two times in a row.
Thwack!
"Strike three!"
The curveball dropped out from under him and I sent Na Taeho back to the dugout. Nobody ever said the put-away pitch had to be a fastball.
"Lee Junseong!" "Lee Junseong!" "Lee Junseong!"
As if answering the roar that had come from the away section when Na Taeho walked up, the home crowd picked up the rhythm and chanted my name.
"Strike three!"
The Marines' half-inning ended, and so did the game.
Final score, 6–1. We won.
I had thrown two scoreless innings, the lineup had pushed across one more run, and the manager closed it out without burning any of his high-leverage arms.
A precious win. Two games left, and even against the mighty Marines we had the edge in the starting matchups and we had drawn first blood. We had to take this series, whatever it took.
"Good work today, everyone. Tomorrow we win and lock up the series. Understood?"
With that from captain Gang Daeho — who had driven in the insurance run — we packed up and left the ballpark.
I caught a ride with Park Ujin again and pulled out my phone to check the reaction to the game.
People's opinions really didn't vary that much. It wasn't the most entertaining reading in the world, but a real-name site beat the anonymous boards — no pile-ons, no nasty pictures. Easier on the eyes.
"Find something funny?"
"Just checking how well the fans think I'm doing."
"You've got a surprisingly childish streak. On the field you're a damn viper."
"Haha. We're not on the field."
"It's fine while you're pitching well. But if things ever start going south, don't look at that stuff. It'll only piss you off."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Not that a day like that is ever going to come.
Park Ujin giving me a lift home was partly about looking after me. He always spoke first, and he always had some piece of advice to pass along.
Thwack!
On Wednesday, before the game, I was in the pen experimenting with a slider. The command was coming along and the velocity was sitting in the mid-eighties. The break, though — that still needed to get bigger. Plenty of people would just call it a slider, but these days the ones with the wider, more violent shape were called a sweeper.
It had to get to the point where nobody who saw it would call it anything else.
Crack!
The ball I'd just squared up slammed into the back net of the batting cage.
"Where the hell does that power come from?"
Gang Daeho, standing off to the side, had something to say about it.
"I eat well, I sleep well, and I work hard."
"Your distance might even beat Ramirez. But why is a pitcher always in the cage? Trying to be the next Ohtani?"
"I had real confidence in my bat back in high school. Felt like a waste to just let it rot because I only pitch in the pros."
"I've been in this league ten years and I've never seen anyone as strange as you. Well… you do about three hundred percent of your job, so do whatever you want."
A pitcher who was actually throwing well taking a serious interest in hitting was always going to be a hard sell. I understood that. For now I would keep quietly sharpening the feel at the plate, grow my standing inside the clubhouse, and make the ask later. The fact that the veterans and the coaches weren't already shutting my routine down counted as them cutting me a fair amount of slack.
"Comparing anyone to a pitcher is a little ridiculous, but among the kids who came in last year, there was one who was the real deal — after you, anyway."
"Is that right?"
Never mind last year's class — I couldn't think of a single hitter from the year before who had turned any heads. What was he talking about?
"Not with the big club. I saw him when I went down to Icheon for a bit after coming back from injury. Bae Junmin. You know him?"
"…He was my high school classmate."
"No kidding? Right, you repeated a year, so you came in late."
I hadn't expected to hear Bae Junmin's name. I knew exactly how good he was. Watching him after I'd started making my own noise, I was pretty sure he'd be a real asset to this team — and he still hadn't gotten the call?
"That's right. If he's that good, why is he still in the minors?"
"Beats me. Some people say he got on the wrong side of the skipper… From what I saw, he looked like a perfectly normal kid."
I had underestimated what they called the rookie's graveyard. Looking at it this way, I really was getting special treatment.
Is Park Sojin still at Bae Junmin's side? Then again, a rookie hitter spending a year or two in the minors isn't exactly unheard of, and Park Sojin had been devoted enough to him that you'd never guess what she was like in middle school.
Forget it. I don't have time to worry about another man's girl. I need to stay focused on Song Hyeonji — we're meeting on Saturday.
And just because I'd thrown two innings yesterday didn't mean I was guaranteed a night off tonight.
Thwack!
"Strike three!"
"Out!"
Our closer Go Junyong didn't have his usual command, but after a gut-it-out outing that ran close to thirty pitches, he slammed the door.
We had swept the first-place Marines. The win-loss record was now dead even. Whether we actually climbed into first would depend on the rest of the Marines' results, but if we swept the weekend series that would be eight in a row. The momentum was fully ours.
I was on a scoreless streak of my own, ever since giving up my first run last weekend. The sub-1.00 ERA was only getting more solid. Rookie of the Year and a spot on the Asian Games roster both looked well within reach.
I sat with the present, looked forward to the future, and waited for tomorrow. And of course, what I was looking forward to most of all was Saturday — and Song Hyeonji.